Posts by Dee

Answer Your Father’s Name

Posted on 09/01/2013


tree

Penned by my father (via Donkey Chronicles)

What does this statement mean? What is the origin of this statement? What are the likely applications and the inferences or innuendos?

Every human being (except Adam and Eve) has a biological father and mother. Unfortunately due to circumstances beyond the control of the individual some parents decide to abandon their children some even before they set eyes on them. In the latter instance, clearly it is not due to dislike of the individual but the fear and discomfort of responsibility of an unscheduled dependant who came with the natural invitation of at least one of the biological parents (the initiator). Nature is very clever; had sex not been a pleasant experience, most would never have had children because of the fear of taking responsibility. So like a net, the selfish continue to get caught in spite of the clever devices employed to hit and run, leaving the fish and the boom hoping that their escapades would die a natural death.

Whether the conjugation was solicited or negotiated, the one who ends up holding the smoldering end of the stick is the woman. Mother Nature decides that the woman carries the product of the rendezvous for nine months in her womb with the tell tale of their activity whether consensus or not, to be either derided or celebrated by a world of experts; after all, we all are sexual beings so we know what we are capable of. In a free, everything goes society where there are no social or communal laws or mores ; everything goes . Whether the appropriateness of the pregnancy is up for debate or it is cause for celebration depends on the existence or nonexistence and adherent to what is acceptable. If the child is not welcome by both of the parents and the mother is kind enough for the child to live, the parting of ways (of mother and child) can only happen after the child is born. However, if the rejection is from the father and depending on the degree of callousness, and in extreme cases, the very day the woman says, I am pregnant is the last time she or the child hears from him. There goes a runaway father.

One of us mentioned the preponderance of unwed mothers in our land. I would dare say, some people have been making them pregnant; bluntly put they are getting pregnant in conjunction with men. And where are the men that have been jointly creating this preponderance? When the children are born and the fathers do not act responsible, they have nowhere to go but stay where the mothers are, with the attendant legacy but happy not to be a “born throway” since at least one of the partners had (besides breast milk) the additional milk of human kindness and sense of responsibility. “Answer your father’s name” in the crudest and malicious form means, “go look for your father and bear his name”. In the Izon culture, the child bears the father’s name and this sentiment can be a desperate reaction of maternal relatives who are pushed to the wall by the individual.

The most popular and friendly interpretation of answer your father’s name is simply a way of saying one must take responsibility by owning up or standing alone without riding behind another’s wake or coverage. There we see the fear inspiring word called responsibility surfacing again. When men and women gamble with their natural potential advantages as trump cards, the losers are often determined by Mother Nature not by their perceived upper hands. A married man with many children who has trouble feeding not to talk of training them is not a reasonable catch for a beautiful female who thinks she is invincibly irresistible. If she decides to take him away from a disadvantaged contestant and in the end find a baby in her romp, one too many for her conquest whose goal in the game was momentary gratification of a wild and untamed desire; it is her loss. Hence all daughters young maidens must be wise and alert.
Typical of the game of spurious chances where the players hide their motives, the cunning get ahead until natural laws which know no bias brings the game to a decisive end. The fear that, there may not be one besides that which is taken out there to be legitimately mine, and the brazen and often exaggerated estimation of whatever it is that makes one thinks irresistible, prevents the player from asking and perhaps negotiating and receiving a guarantee before a deal or no deal. Understanding that number two , three or four as the case may be is a continuum which ends in infinity; will this deal stop with me and is what I have, enough and stronger than all that may engage me after this conquest in a similar situation in future; should be food for thought(in fact main course and not a snack). After all, soldier comes, soldier goes; what goes up often comes down if there is no strong enough effort to maintain the status quo. What the eyes see do entice and it seems like the bigger the eye the bigger the craving and the recklessness in abandonment with potential dire consequences of a life time of irreversible ride with baggage too heavy for one. The young and the beautiful entice with their strength and beauty and are caught by the lure of greed and power exuding from the strong, rich and famous of the game. Welcome to the real whirl web where each player has eye on the price but fails to note the web that entangles for the black widow’s bite.

Dear female child, shine your eyes. All that glitter is not gold. As a female child you are the custodian of the key to the door of generations to come. Let the men and women who see your beauty and poise, see you as the future mother and grandmother of generations to come and not as some play toy for another’s fancy. The value you place on yourself and the price tag you dare fix upon yourself is what others would negotiate with you. If you think short term, the lease is short but the penalty is heavy and there is no opportunity to reset the clock. A broken egg may be used but it cannot be returned to its former state hence the usefulness is limited. Think wisely, choose carefully and take your time; life is not a shopping spree, neither is it a tasting contest. Experimenting with your body which has no duplicate is not a good idea especially when you are not in total control but just one of the players.Beware of injuries and penalties and your are not the referee; Mother Nature is.

There is a price for those who are faithful and those who wait upon God that made them male and female. It is His idea to make them in such a way to need each other and it is well within His alley to ensure that there is no lack for those who trust Him absolutely to bring about His counsel – “be fruitful and multiply”. Those that trust God but decide to help Him often get into trouble, please remember as you trust Him for the best He has for you.

How and where you find a spouse is where and how you may keep or lose your spouse! How you couple determines how you decouple. I am rooting for you because you hold the keys to the generations and this is a token of my commitment to see you succeed, a contented and happy motherhood.

Akiroro.

Strangers of the Past: Part XIX

Posted on 07/01/2013

loneflowerHe couldn’t stop staring, not daring to remove his gaze from her face. The protective way she held onto a whimpering Tomas, her brow wrinkled in concern as she stared listlessly at the linoleum floor. Neve fingered the edge of his doctor’s coat, feeling helpless as he stood near the row of chairs where mother and son sat. How he wanted to wrap his arms about her bowed shoulders, to smoothen that stubborn wrinkle on her forehead with a kiss and whisper in her soft, shapely right ear that everything would be alright. But alas, there was no room for him.

Just then, Ameya shifted her gaze up to his face and Neve could feel the warmth in his cheeks as if caught in his wandering thoughts. Her dark brows lifted in silent question and he cleared his throat. “She’s fine… Just wanted to tell you that.”

The solemn smile on her curved lips stirred him within and Neve glanced down at the drowsy boy nestled in her arms. “You should go home and rest.”

Ameya nodded wearily and lowered her gaze to her son. Her slim, long fingers trailed along the boy’s cheek and Neve removed his eyes, his body stirring within.

“Do you need help with him?” Neve stepped forward, holding out his arms.

She peeked up at him from lowered lashes, she too as lethargic as her son. “Are you sure?” her voice was husky and tentative.

Neve managed a smile despite his conflicting emotions he held within. “Yeah,” he answered hoarsely and slowly reached for the lithe boy who compliantly entered his arms. He’d asked the nurse to page him once Mrs. Faluna woke and besides Genevieve had asked him, amid her tears, to check on Ameya and Tomas.

Ameya bit her bottom lip, peering over his shoulder at the hallway.

“Don’t worry,” he offered in a gentle voice so as not to wake the boy now nestled against his chest. “She’s stabilized and just needs some rest.” He then gestured toward the exit door and sighed as Ameya hesitantly turned around to walk ahead of him.

It wasn’t until they got to the car that Ameya straightened her shoulders in alarm, her head whipping from left to right. Neve raised a brow at her strange behavior. “What’s the matter?”

Ameya didn’t answer him at first, approaching the car and peering through the window.

“Ameya…?” he asked in concern.

She frowned, glancing over her shoulder to peer out into the parking lot. “Where did they go?”

“Who?” Neve asked, tilting his head curiously at the empty van.

—-

Hapta hitched up his right thumb toward the oncoming traffic, gritting his teeth to hold back complaints. They were more than five miles from the hospital and God knows how far from the hotel. Behind him, Marcus and Jonathan walked at a snail’s pace, their heads bowed in concentration with their own thoughts.

Growling in aggravation, Hapta jerked his thumb forward and peered onto the road at the traffic.

Marcus peeked from the corner of his eye at Jonathan’s contemplative expression before managing a smile. “Changing your mind about leaving?”

“No…”

He raised a brow at Jonathan’s hesitant reply. “Then what?”

Jonathan slowed to a stop and Marcus paused in his step, regarding his brother-in-law who still kept his gaze on the dirt path. “She’s okay, isn’t she?” His voice broke as he spoke.

Marcus frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jonathan raised his head to look directly at Marcus. “Without me, she’s okay, isn’t she?”

“Jonathan…” Marcus started to say but stopped when Jonathan shook his head slowly.

“Even if I’m not around, she’s okay.”

Marcus’ brow furrowed darkly. “You want to give up?”

Jonathan swallowed hard, lowering his gaze back to the dirt road and only silence and cars zipping past them answered what he could not.

Marcus sighed heavily, watching with a broken heart as Jonathan struggled with himself. He couldn’t blame the man though. Hannah had no recollection of who she had been, who she’d loved. Now she lived happily and content as Ameya, a sassy tour guide and single mother, with many people on this sunny island to love and support her. Why would she give this life for something she didn’t know existed?

Then he pictured Tampa back in Houston, dutifully taking care of both their toddler as well as Jonathan’s three children, holding on to the hope that Hannah would be found? Something painful stirred within and Marcus sighed heavily. He missed Tampa desperately, even with her sharp tongue and fiery gaze. Seeing Hannah everyday reminded him of what he’d left behind.

Glancing up at Jonathan’s forlorn expression, Marcus shook his head. They couldn’t give up on Hannah like this. Even if Jonathan was convinced that she wouldn’t want to be found, he had to do it. For Tampa, for Jonathan… For Hannah.

“No,” he heard himself saying just as Hapta successfully managed to stop a car on the side of the road.

Jonathan looked up despondently at the sound of Marcus’ firm reply.

“You’re not going to give up on Hannah. I won’t let you.”

“Hey guys! Come on,” Hapta’s voice called over the bleating traffic around them.

Marcus and Jonathan merely stared at each other, one’s eyes filled with despair and the other blazing with renewed determination.

—-

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come by?” Ameya said in a hushed voice later that evening, sitting near the bay window in Tomas’ bedroom. She peeked over to where he snuggled against the scruffy teddy bear.

“Hmm,” Genevieve said quietly, her voice still hoarse from crying. “I don’t want you to have to move Tomas too much… I’m sorry for scaring you two.”

Ameya shook her head and smiled. “It’s okay. Your mother needed you.”

Genevieve sighed heavily. “I didn’t think I’ve ever been this afraid, this unsure.”

Ameya stared longingly at her sleeping son, her heart echoing Genevieve’s words. The fear that shook her earlier in the day at the thought of her son panicking and suffering was so strong, she could barely stand. Tears filled her eyes as she refrained from reaching to stroke his cheek.

“What if I hadn’t noticed it on time?” Genevieve continued. “What if—” her voice broke in mid speech.

Blinking back the tears, Ameya straightened her back and dragged her gaze back to the window, staring down at the street. “Don’t say that… Your mother is in good hands.”

“Yeah, thank God for Neve…”

Ameya managed a smile, thinking about their mutual friend who had rushed from one hospital room to meet Mrs. Faluna and Genevieve. She could remember that very day she’d been on that hospital bed, waking up to Neve’s warm eyes staring down at her. Cheeks warmed involuntarily as she recalled how kind he was to her those days she first woke up. “Yeah, he’s a great guy.”

There was silence on Genevieve’s end and Ameya blinked the last tear from her eyes. “Gene?”

“Hmm?” her friend said drowsily.

“Go to sleep… Get some rest.”

“Hmm, you too.”

Ameya managed a smile and nodded even though Gene couldn’t see it. “Bonne nuit. I’ll pray for your maman.”

Mesi, my friend… Bonne nuit.”

As Genevieve’s line went dead, Ameya kept the phone propped to her ear as she stared listlessly at the street below, the tears falling silently down her cheeks.

<<Part 18 || Part 20>>